Category: Shared Grief (Page 3 of 28)

The Point of No Return

February 1, 2026 / Mama Fish

The original meaning behind the phrase “the point of no return” came from aviation describing the moment in the flight where the airplane had used enough fuel that it could not return to its starting point. That was the point that it must continue towards wherever it was headed, regardless of any challenges that could arise.

Today, this phrase is commonly used as a social term. A warning to which emphasizes a moment of urgency. It is a sign to stop and become fully aware of what will be the next thoughts, words, actions, as they could be irreversible. It is in that moment that we must decide, will moving forward from this point be a positive one or will it be regrettable. In our daily life, there are many decisions made without much thought of are we about to pass the point of no return. Thus, there needs to be an understanding of what the point of no return is and the importance of it to sustain healthy relationships.

In my life, I have been asked to do that. To ponder my relationships and my involvement in each and to alter, correct or quit the course. I have never considered doing this. I felt my life is filled with people that have entered for a reason, season or lifetime and the Universe decides when they depart. But I have been pressed to do so. For my health. For the health of those I care for. It is my mental homework this week.

The instructions are simple; the assignment is difficult. Easy to list who I care for in my life. It is a long list. Easy to prioritize which relationships I feel need attention. So, one starts there, asking why each relationship is important. The obvious fact that they are family, friend or a partner doesn’t count. There are no titles in this assignment. The focus is about the person, regardless of the designation that may connect you.

The reflection begins with answering does this person generally make me feel energized or depleted. Am I able to be my true self. Is there reciprocity. It ends with the contemplation of what is the point of no return in this relationship. That is the hard question, what could that be, what to do and will I have the courage to do so if I get to that point.

The answers should involve your individual needs and wants. None of this can be answered until the question, “what is needed to be my best” is answered. And that is why it is difficult. If you don’t know, how would you know who fits into your life. This is a contemplative exercise to which is to be done with deep thought and lots of pauses.

This is an exercise that can be used for our grief too. It can help us decide what we require in our grief from others. And if we do not receive that, the point of no return, what does that look like? The idea of this exercise is to gain a better understanding of our own needs such that we can cultivate mutually positive relationships.

The point of no return is the catch net. It is the action decided when one is confronted with a situation to which goes against their values. It is a boundary designed to ensure that we keep safe. Understanding that it is more of how to face the challenge (as in the aviation definition) than a harsh alienation (as in the social term) might make it more acceptable. My point of no return is about how do I face the challenge presented at that point. Not how do I crash the plane.

Removing Spiritual Roadblocks

January 25, 2026 / Mama Fish

Geoff’s mother shared a story her daughter-in-law told her about a dream that a colleague of hers had. I apologize if, in translation, I miss details, but I remember it like this:

She was in a large white room with a bench in it and on the bench sat Geoff. He asked her if she could give his wife a message. “Please tell her that I am trying to reach her, but she keeps blocking me.” Then the door opened and in walked another man, who she did not recognize, and he sat down beside Geoff. The two of them got up and left. Her colleague said it was such a weird dream. It felt real. The wife showed a picture of Zane to her and asked, “was this the other man?” Yes! Yes, it was him.

When I heard this story, there were tears. Bittersweet, understanding tears. Proof that our boys are somewhere else, together and yet connected to this realm with a desire to reach us.

The question is often asked “has your loved one visited you?” The answer is varied. Some did in the beginning but not now. Some only once. Some are still waiting. How can we remove the roadblocks to connect with the spiritual realm?

We know that we are to quiet our minds. Visits from our loved ones are brief moments. If our mind is racing with thoughts, a visit might get lost in between all the other topics competing in one’s head. Resting, taking mindful walks help remove the blocks.

Connection requires our loved one to lower their vibration, and we must raise our vibration so that we meet somewhere in the middle. Negative emotions bring our energy down and although it can’t be helped to feel anger or resentment and especially sadness, we must try to elevate feelings of joy, purpose and gratitude. This helps raise our vibration.

Meditative, nighttime rituals are essential to removing blocks. All meditations carry similar components; relax, take deep breaths, empty the mind by focusing the attention on a specific scene, speak your desire. My favorite is imagining a forest with a stone path leading up a small hill. At the top of the hill is a cluster of trees. I stand in front and ask, “which of you would like to speak to me tonight?” Then I wait. It almost always works. It is not Zane every time, but whoever steps forward, there is uplifting conversation.

Dream journalling is a must. When you begin to write what dreams you do remember, your brain becomes trained to remember better. My dream journals contain many stories of Zane that I would have forgotten if I had not written it down right after. Spiritual connections require practice and patience. What will begin an occasional writing of a dream remembered, will become a regular happening.

The bonus of this practice brings our loved ones across the realm, in dreams but also in moments when awake. When their voice ‘pops’ into your head or you feel a soft touch when no one is there. Don’t be quick to dismiss it to your imagination. Answer back and ask for more. Your acknowledgement removes the spiritual blocks and opens the door to stronger connections.

A Letter from Grief

January 18, 2026 / Mama Fish

A recent exercise in dealing with grief suggested that we write grief a letter. The purpose is to face your grief, giving it a personality and telling it what you think about it. As I completed this assignment, I wondered, what if grief wrote us a letter? What would it want us to know? What would it ask? My letter to grief came back with a reply.

Hello,

I am here. The Universal plan brought me here and I know you don’t like me. I know I cause you angst. I know I am the reason you cry at night, scream in the morning and have so many thoughts of deep doubt. I know how tired you are from my presence. I know how hard you wish I would leave.

But I’m not leaving. I’m here to stay. If you find yourself in a dark spot, don’t blame me. Stop and be quiet, take a deep breath and a moment to ponder…

Are your thoughts, your actions aligned with truth? The real raw truth that only your soul knows. Not the truth that your broken heart is telling you or the muddled truth of your brain. Have you listened to the whispers of your soul?

Are your thoughts, your actions aligned with kindness. Are you treating yourself with the tenderness to which a shattered life deserves? Concentrating on nourishing your soul with solitude and reflection rather than distractions and avoidance?

Are you filling your days with small moments of things that once brought you joy or are you replacing everything with something new, something shiny, something that cannot relate to the you before I arrived.

These are the ponderings I ask of you. The answers can become actions to ease the intensity of my being. I am grief. I am the other side of love. Don’t mistake me for anything else.

Don’t mistake me for anger. The anger to which arrives through despair or impatience. Anger will make you scream of the injustices thrown upon you, insinuating you have been betrayed. It can not speak of the whole truth for anger has only one side.

Don’t mistake me for fear. The fear to which arrives through insecurity or lack of faith. Fear will cast shadows over the chance of joy, holding you back from opening the door to opportunity. It can not see the future, for fear only knows of the past.

I am grief. I am the other side of the love you hold. I am the tallyman of your heart; your broken heart that I will help reshape. I am not the enemy. I am merely the bittersweet continuation of love after its original form has left.

~Grief

Gentle Reminders for Mother Hen

January 4, 2026 / Mama Fish

Over the holidays, I reviewed my role as a contributing and positive person in the lives of those I love. It was suggested that I can be controlling, opinionated and a busy body. Ouch. Someone else spoke of how I was raised on guilt and thus very good at using that tactic in my parenting. Double ouch. There is no mistake that our clan is suffering, trials and tribulations seem to be our thing. I’d like that to change and wondered how I can help, or do I just make it worse.

When I approached my family with this query, I was appreciative of the honesty of the responses. Yes, I can be opinionated, but it comes from a place of love. Yes, I tend to take charge when I see someone struggling and sometimes this causes questions of whether a person was genuine or if they were acting on ‘momma’s orders.’ Overall, my family has come to accept me and my actions as the mother hen God created. I seem to be the one having an issue with it.

I guess this whole review comes from the many arguments of late and the exasperation I feel with the choices my family are making. I am worried about the outcomes. I’m not sure how I can mind my own business when I am usually the go-to person when things go south. To let go is unknown territory for me because it is new. I used to be very confident in how I expressed care. Now, I seem to question, overthink and host doubt. I blame grief.

When we lose someone, we subconsciously become more controlling. We could not control when and how death came into our life to blow it up. But it did. And it left us feeling vulnerable. We begin to put into place actions to protect our fears, to perhaps numb some of the pain. We tighten our opinions. We begin to manage situations, putting conditions on the idea that if we have more control, we will not be hurt again. It doesn’t work.

As I was exploring how to step back from my urge to be ultimate mother hen, one of my ‘kids’ sent me a text. He told me that my love for him is what sustains him. He doesn’t understand it, but he knows that I am there for him. Unconditionally. And that has made the difference. My heart burst.

Another family member texted me, “I was the best part of 2025. Stay positive.” And another unsolicited text, “…You are the one there for me…” And then my daughter reminded me of the trip we had together to Ireland. A bucket list of her and Zane’s to get me there. She hugged me and said, “2025 took us to Ireland and showered us with signs that our tribe lives on. Together.” My heart burst again. I had forgotten how important that trip was. Truly the highlight of the year.

I believe that personal reflection is always a good practice. It solicits feedback to spark necessary change and supports the ability for growth. It may sting but change usually does. My favorite part is the gentle reminders of what is working, that one’s intentions have been received in the manner to which they were meant. These affirmations can be the foundation of what to build on.

Life is what it is. It will not be constant. There will always be change. How we move forward, becoming a stronger, more impactful version of our former self is the focus to which we can find balance, joy and connection. As mother hen, I will better choose the issues I peck at as some problems aren’t even mine. And the result might be a few less ruffled feathers.

Saddle Up, Another Year is Here

December 28, 2025 / Mama Fish

This Christmas was different. Each of us recognized there was something missing. It wasn’t the same; the happy holiday sentiments were empty. It seemed like another task. I hated our neighbor’s Santa decor, each morning displaying the number of days until Christmas arrived. I wanted to kick him. I was ready, in all the materialistic manners, only my heart was not.

This year I battled. Hard. It was an exercise in compromise. Life brought with it major changes on all levels. It forced us to reevaluate who we are, who we want to be and who we want to be with. The answers were not familiar. Strong ties are now broken and new events substituted tradition.

Social media shouts, it was the year of the snake. This was the year we were to shed what is no longer fitting. It was supposed to be a hard year of transformation. I don’t recall knowing that at the start of this year. And yet, we seemed to have lived the meaning of what the snake brings. I am opposed to this because I am not a creature of change. I hate change. In fact, I will choose to live with what is uncomfortable to avoid change. My family is different. They seem to embrace the necessary hardship of change, looking past the difficulty of now to the possibility of what might be. I seem to be stuck. I can only see what it was. And I miss it.

At the end of Christmas, it was not the same, but not terrible. It brought new experiences and revised editions of past rituals. We got together. Just not altogether. We did laugh. I did cry. Some of the feelings were reminiscent of past times and a few new joys. All in all, it was the usual bittersweet I live. And goals for the New Year…well they are being planned.

2026 will be the year of the horse. Bold, strong, galloping into the anticipation of better. The horse symbolizes heading forward to what one has discovered from the past year’s shedding of what ails us. Right now, I feel like an old mare. I don’t have any desire to leave the pasture of my past. I can’t see how the grass may be greener on the other side. In fact, I am fearful of what might be hidden there.

Alas, it will soon arrive, so I share with you ‘bah humbug’ sentiments, honoring a character we rewatched as part of our holiday movie collection, Mr. Grinch.

It came with gifts, it came with toys, it came dressed up, with toasts of joy.

It brought cookies, squares, baked goods and pies, it brought mittens and markets and presents to buy.

It gathered those from near and from far to sip happy hours at local bars. This season was filled with so much to do. It hardly gave me time to sit next to you.

Yes, Christmas came with its markers and makers, it came with its festivals, top shows and its shakers. It brought in the moments, the ribbon and presents, and left with reminders of a notable essence.

Maybe, just maybe with angels nearby, we can carry our grief without answers why. And maybe, just maybe the cosmic stars’ mystery will bring signs of new happy wonders to see…

2026 is about the horse, may each of you have a comfortable saddle, and a wide-open course.

Values Are One’s Compass

December 21, 2025 / Mama Fish

One of my medical appointments related to my health was to determine if I am experiencing burnout. In this meeting, she asked me if I was clear of what my values were. She suggested a website that outlines value themes and to choose the top ten that I feel align with my beliefs and then narrow that number down to three. Or maybe five if three seemed daunting. I told her that I knew what they were, had already done a test such as that in my line of work. She asked if I had done it since 2018. No, I had not. She smiled, “grief can change one’s values.”

It was an aha moment for me. Grief has changed the way I feel, reason, behave…why would I think my values are the same as before. I agreed to review the list and discovered that what I valued before Zane was killed, only one of the values is still in accordance with my present beliefs. Worse, most of my daily actions are supporting no values, my past or my newly identified values. No wonder the internal turmoil I am experiencing is so loud.

My old values were family/friends, work, health, community and social. I work in community with no boundaries; guilt knocks me over if I am not there for family and friends and thus my busy social life which contributes to my poor health. It is almost laughable.

My new list contains ideals that are reflective of my pain. The first is inner harmony. I want my soul to quit screaming. If I have this, it will bring me peace. The second is spirituality. 2018 taught me that there is more to life than this, that the connection to the other realm, to God, to my loved ones in spirit is my salvation. This value brings me balance. The third value is still family/friends. I believe that friends and family are the same. For me, family is like the sun. Everything revolves around them. This is my true community.

If I am permitted to have another two values, they would be creativity and wealth as I believe that the right creativity could bring wealth. And this combination will bring me opportunity.

It was amusing that work, community, social and health got kicked off the new list. Work is fine, I am closer to retirement than the fight to climb the professional ladder. My community was too big and became filled with associates rather than relationships which created obligations not celebrations. And social, grief insists that solitude replace it.

Health, I was surprised that it was not on my list given that I spent most of 2025 in medical offices. I have come to believe that health is part of one’s fate. Yes, we must do the right things, diet, exercise, sleep, moderation…but it has become more a daily undertaking, not a value. And if I am honoring my values, my health will surely benefit.

I think my therapist might be on to something with this value alignment. At the end of the session, it was confirmed that I am experiencing total emotional burnout. Which, she believes is part of the underlining manifestation of my physical issues. I am sure my herbalist would agree. I now begin a journey to heal. Both mentally, physically and emotionally. It is fitting that this has all happened at the end of the year when goals and dreams and hopes for the next are being considered. My ideals for 2026 will focus on how to create a life that honors my new values.

Coldplay On Candle Lighting Day

December 14, 2025 / Mama Fish

Today is World Candle Lighting Day. It began in 1997 to acknowledge those who have lost a child. The idea behind it is to light a candle in their memory at 7pm local time. It has become the largest global commemoration. In essence, Candle Lighting Day represents the act of illuminating physical and metaphorical darkness. It is a powerful and universally understood gesture of hope, memory, and unity. A fitting way to celebrate our children.

We do this each year. Sometimes with friends, sometimes alone. This year a group of grieving moms are gathering for brunch to share stories over the warmth of lit candles. It will include laughter and tears, and it will bring a sense of comfort through the friendship of a path shared.

A poem is often included as part of the candle lighting. I have written my own in the past. This year, I leaned on the musical talents of the band Coldplay to accompany my ritual. The song “It was all yellow” is about the love of another and the desire to do great things in honor of that love. A fitting theme to the love a mother has for her child.

The ‘yellow’ referring to the stars in the song can also be the yellow flame of a burning candle. And thus, as I light my candle tonight, in remembrance of Zane, in honor of all the children watching us from the other realm, I will hum:

“Look at the stars,

Look how they shine for you

And everything you do

Yea, they were all yellow”

The first time I heard this song, it was sung by a talented daughter of a friend. I had no idea it was one from a band Zane enjoyed. I sung it a lot before he was killed. I couldn’t after, it was too close to my new truth. He had become a part of the stars that were once shining for him. This year, I appreciate the idea that our children’s energy can be seen in the stars. The song has a deeper and more poignant meaning now.

“Look at the stars,

Look how they shine for you,

And everything you do

Yea, they are all yellow…”

With Grief’s Permission

November 30, 2025 / Mama Fish

As a kid growing up, I enjoyed American Thanksgiving. My cousins would travel to our home from Montana to join us. The holiday included a trip to Eddie Bauer, shopping for Canadian treasures to take back, like bacon, wieners, Tylenol 222 and Canadian beer. Dinner was the traditional turkey, with all the fixings. It was a favorite time for y’all. We still celebrate it, in remembrance of those days.

This year I noticed how different my favorite holiday has become. Empty. It is without the fanfare of my childhood. It lacks the full table (so many are missing, including my cousins). It lacks the sounds of chatter with a slight drawl. It lacks my mother’s kitchen, small with the window steamed from the heat of the oven and pots boiling. It lacks my father’s presence, rocking in his chair with the dog on his lap, cocktail on the side table, next to the ashtray with a cigarette always smoldering.

This holiday was always about family. The whole family. Not the small Canadian Thanksgiving family. No, American Thanksgiving was big, bold, loud and oh so energizing. It included everyone. It shouted we are together. It contained the sharing of what was happening, what was being planned, and always the latest antics of my crazy southern family. You went to bed that night so full of food, wine and laughter that you couldn’t sleep.

For some reason, this year, the happiness of yesteryear came through the front door, stomping around in my head like a full piece band. Perhaps it was because this year was like any other day. It started off rough, it included too much work, stress, mess and a rush home to ‘whip up’ dinner. It did not contain any extended family. It did not pause any ugly realities. The day had me so totally exhausted that I found myself having a hard cry before my daughter and husband came home to join me for dinner.

Grief. This Thanksgiving my grief sat at the head of the table. It reminded me of how old I am. How tired I have become. I countered it with the game of gratitude. I am aware and appreciative of all that I do have. Then my grief reached its hand across the table to hold mine and whispered to me, “it’s ok to cry for the many empty seats at your table.”

And with that, with grief’s permission, I leaned in, letting my broken heart mourn for all those that once sat at my table. Those who raised me, those I grew up with, for family that shared decades with me. And I cried for those who once sat at my table that I raised, mothered or mentored. For the kids that have sat around my table sharing their dreams, their gratitude at their young age. Including and especially, the twenty-six Thanksgivings I shared with Zane.

This year, I missed the physical presence of my family. All of them; those who join my table in heart and those who join my table in spirit. This year, I longed for the simple, naïve and joyful times of Thanksgivings past.

When Collective Grief Becomes Conflicted

November 23, 2025 / Mama Fish

I have been battling with conflicted grief lately. Conflicted because I feel one way but am expected to feel another way. It has me basking in a pool of self-reflection and personal judgement if I am behaving in the manner that honors my family’s needs without sacrificing my own.

Trying to not divulge too much, as the cause of this new grief is not my story to share, let’s just say that a family member has made decisions which has created a division of opinion and made gatherings uncomfortable if not impossible. And with the upcoming holiday season, I am anxious about where I should be and what I should do and how I should feel.

In the beginning, emotions were raw. Grief had just arrived and each of us handled it differently. I was accused of not being supportive enough as it appeared I wasn’t going to choose sides. With me, I saw we were all experiencing loss and thus my care-giving soul needed to hug everyone, which was frustrating for some.

Then, when enjoying tea with friends, one told me her story of how she was experiencing a very similar situation within her family. She shared how her heart was grieving and yet she felt she had to hide it or be ridiculed. As I listened to her, the actions of her family, the feelings for her person, the frustrations to be all to all, I found a kinship. Two mothers who feel that their grief must be ignored most days to ensure the happiness of everyone else.

Why as mothers do we feel this way. We are not told to do this and yet, we assign to ourselves an unspoken expectation that whatever road our family chooses to travel to support their needs is a road we must also travel with them. It is ludicrous as we know grief is a personal journey. But when there are layered reasons, tribulations, we want to be calm, to be comfort to their woes. How we feel becomes seemingly less relevant.

Moms don’t have strong boundaries, if any at all, when it comes to the wellbeing of their family. But we need them. Our heart is broken too. We are filled with grief and confusion and want to be present. For everyone. Can we create a space to support all those we love without judgement. Can we give each other the freedom to determine how one’s own grief is addressed. Can we be compassionate to the truth that we are all hurting. In different ways, for different reasons but we are all hurting. And can we give leniency to each other to be ourselves?

The answer needs to be yes. Perhaps the role of mother is only to start the process. An unsteady process that requires open communication, the setting aside of ego and the ability to put respect front and center. This doesn’t make collective grief any less ugly. Or easy. Hopefully, it will make room to reduce the conflict such grief carries; to explore collective pathways that will help comfort our grief. As a family and as individuals.

Who Will Cure My Grief?

November 9, 2025 / Mama Fish

As the ongoing parade of medical examinations unfold, I found myself at an appointment I didn’t expect this week. My oncologist, in my last appointment noticed there was mobility restriction in my right hand. He asked if I would be open to seeing an occupational therapist. I said yes. So, when the hospital called with a date to come in, I put on a pair of sweatpants and t-shirt assuming it would involve exercises of some kind. And it did. Just not for my hand.

The young therapist was wonderfully cheery, asking how I found the roads to the hospital that morning as she had found traffic heavy. I agreed and we went into her office, continuing to chat about the weather. She asked if I was open to her starting my assessment with a couple of questions. I nodded. Her first question was what day it is. Thursday. What Province are we in. I stared at her. Alberta. What is the year. My mouth dropped.

I said, “oh my God, this is not about my hand, is it? This is a cognitive test you are giving me.” She was surprised I didn’t know. She explained how my doctors had referred me to her as I had expressed to both, I was feeling more brain fog than usual. She was a behavioural therapist who specializes in dementia caused by the effects of cancer. She admitted that she was testing me from the start; the question about traffic told her I could drive myself. “Are you ok with this?” she asked. “Bring it on”, I said.

My mother passed of Alzheimer’s. There is a 50% chance I could develop it because of her genetics. Of all the health issues I am battling, my memory was not on my radar. Yes, my brain hurts and memory is shoddy but stress, grief, and the multi-tasking I do daily is a more probable answer than dementia. At least I hope so.

At the end of the day, I passed with flying colors. She felt confident there was no memory issue with me and would send her report to my well-meaning doctors. She also suggested a program I could enroll in on tips to keep your memory sharp as you age. I signed up for that.

My health is important, and I have agreed to many courses and tests as we explore the reason for my chronic pain and heart problems. The fact that my doctors are now signing me up to specialists and sending in prescriptions without my awareness is something I questioned. The answer is I don’t mind; I’d just like to be informed so that I can be prepared for the next step. I am grateful they are exploring every possibility.

I keep asking how the emotional state might trigger illness. What role does heartache play in the long-term wellbeing of a patient. You can’t quantify loss. Grief does not show up in a blood test. Doctors are trained to take care of the body. But how do you scan and mend the soul that is broken?

When I expressed this frustration to my nutritionist, she asked, “Have you ever taken a reprieve from your old normal to discover what a new normal needs to be for you?” “No”, I replied. She sighed, “Perhaps your continuing attempt to keep doing everything you did before your grief arrived has caused an emotional burnout”. And with that, I have a new appointment to be seen by a mental health specialist.